The Night Rainbow A Novel - By Claire King Page 0,51

Sylvie replies. She looks at Maman, then down at me, clean out of the shower and smelling of fruit, then back at Maman. Her face is surprised to see Maman, I can tell. How are you, Madame? she says.

Maman is still not smiling. You can leave the bread at the bottom of the path from now on, she says.

Sylvie hands me the baguettes. Two. At the bottom of the path? she says.

That will be fine. Maman is counting out coins from her red purse.

Don’t you think, says Sylvie, I mean, wouldn’t it be easier for you, in the state you’re in, if . . .

Sylvie’s pink lipstick mouth is making a tight scrunched-up knot and her eyebrows are down in the middle. She is scared of Maman. But still she is arguing with her, which is a big mistake. Maman holds out her hand with the coins in so that Sylvie has to come towards her to take them. Sylvie is stretching her arm forward so she doesn’t have to get too close, as though she is taking a bone from a dog.

The state I’m in? says Maman.

It can’t be long, says Sylvie, making a happy face. At least there’s that.

At least there’s that? says Maman, like a parrot. At least there’s that? She is getting extremely angry.

This is going to be a disaster, says Margot.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . . Sylvie sighs. I just thought it must be hard. Young children are tiring when you’re pregnant. Mine are all grown up but I still remember. I just meant well. She snatches the coins out of Maman’s hand and steps backwards.

Meaning well means trying to be helpful. It doesn’t mean sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted. Maman says this in a very quiet voice, like a growl, and now all in English. She is pointing at the tip of her nose while she is growling. Sylvie looks confused.

I don’t understand, she says.

That’s right, says Maman, still in English. You don’t understand a thing.

Sylvie looks at Maman, and then at me, and she shakes her head. I smile at her, just a small, sorry smile. Maman is being very impolite today and her idea about the bread is a silly one. Now I will have to fetch the bread from down by the road before I can eat it. Sylvie makes her mouth into a straight. It isn’t a real smile but you can tell that she is trying. She gets into her car and slams the door. She has another look at me out of her window. I am just standing still with the bread, looking back at her. I haven’t eaten any. My hair is drying in the sunshine, growing curls. Maman is standing next to me, with her arms folded together resting on the top of her belly. All of our toes are in a line.

Nice to see you have some clothes on today, Pivoine, says Sylvie, and she drives away.

After breakfast, Maman takes herself back to her room. I’m tired, she says.

OK, I say, although it isn’t really.

Why do you think Maman was angry with Sylvie? I say.

She always leaves too much bread, says Margot. It’s such a waste.

She said she’d been sticking her nose into it, I say.

Yes, says Margot. And that is very unhygienic.

And also quite peculiar, I say.

Never mind, says Margot. Hey, Pea, I’ve got a very good idea. Then she whispers it into my ear and it is a very good idea indeed. Especially after what Mami Lafont said. We take the things that we need from the kitchen to play our game and then we go quietly back up to our room and close the door.

Me first! says Margot.

I hand her the big black-handled scissors and she snip-snips them in the air. They shine softly in the triangle of light coming in through the shutters.

Great! she says. Then she holds up a big chunk of her hair, pulling it around in front of her eyes so she can see where to cut, and closes the scissors on it with a snick.

I can’t reach properly, she says. You do it.

I take back the scissors. They feel snippy, and the cutting feels definitely good. I snip at her hair, just as if I were a real hairdresser, chatting to her about anything that comes to my head. When I have finished she has very short hair, but it is beautiful, not like a princess but maybe a pop star. Then